


cause you remind me every day i'm not enough, but i still stay

by grizz



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Sort Of, alpha!Michael De Santa, and all the nasty stuff that comes with it, cheating sort of, omega!Trevor Philips, starts with young them but will end with post gta them, this is gonna be angsty as hell ok dont say i didn't warn you, trevor's perceptions of omegas is really really fucked up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29838996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizz/pseuds/grizz
Summary: The Philips family were ecstatic when they gave birth to a baby boy, raising him to be an alpha. But when he presented as an omega, Trevor's father did everything in his power to hide it.But what happens now that Trevor is an adult, and is struggling with his identity and how a certain blue-eyed alpha makes him feel?
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. playfight

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't finished the game yet but I am obsessed and needed to write for them. I hope I tagged everything that may be potentially triggering, please please let me know if there are other tags I should add!

"Jesus, Trevor, you need to take a fucking shower." Mikey said, pinching his nose in disgust.

Trevor had just emerged from the bathroom, a bottle of scent-blocker stuffed deep into his pocket. He had taken a shower, in alpha pheromones. Like a 16-year-old boy with a spray can full of Axe. A grin cracked across his face and he quickly closed the space between where he once stood and where Michael sat perched on the edge of his bed. Michael reeled backwards, making it easy for Trevor to shove him down onto the bed. 

"Can't handle the smell of another alpha, huh? Pussy." Trevor taunted as he crawled on top of him, taking a seat on his lap. His hands finding their way onto the larger boy's shoulders, to hold him still as he leaned in close. Laughter bubbling out of him as he more or less forced Michael to take in the concentrated smell of his scent glands. It was a risky move, and for half a second anxiety spiked in Trevor, laughter ebbing away, at the realization that his natural scent might bleed through and give him away. It had happened once before when he was young, he'd gotten into a fight with an alpha who almost immediately scented him after Trevor headbutted him. Ever since then he had always made sure to center the majority of the blockers there. And as Michael gagged in repulsion, the anxiety disappeared almost like it had never been there in the first place. 

"You don't just smell like another alpha, you constantly smell like you're in rut." Grabbing Trevor's waist, he flipped them over. "I'm serious, it's acrid T. Have you gone to a doctor about that?" He asked releasing his waist, and placing his hands to either side of Trevor's head instead. The new position allowed Michael to push himself up further and away from the offending stink. The distance didn't last long as Trevor reached up and slung his arms around Michael's neck. His legs soon followed after, wrapping around his waist and crossing at the ankles. It was Michael's own damn fault for straddling him instead of sitting in his lap like Trevor had done. "If you didn't like it, you wouldn't still be on top of me."

The comment, while meant to tease Michael, had ended up unnerving Trevor. The proximity, the way Trevor was more or less pulling himself up into Michael's space…and the way Michael wasn't pulling away. _Fuck, it was kind of hot._ Trevor wasn't blind, he'd been attracted to the alpha from the moment he laid eyes on him. All dark hair and blue eyes, and the sheen of sweat across his forehead when he booked it out of the car. The calm and collected demeanor (however brief) when Trevor had planted a flare into a man's orbital cavity. But this…no, no, he never would have expected to start producing slick for him. _Producing...slick?_ "Oh shit." His eyes widened, pupils contracting to pinpoints. The heat suppressors were supposed to get rid of that shit.

Trevor's eyes darted around the room, examining his escape options. His gaze landing on the precarious edge they were already teetering on. Putting his plan into action before Michael could even ask what was wrong. "Oh, no you don't!" Mikey yelped, but it was too late. Trevor had held onto him even tighter, and with an impressive amount of force, propelled them to the floor. Trevor was back on top, but he quickly scrambled off of the other man. "You sick fuck, alphas aren't supposed to get off on other alphas." He spat, trying to spin this around to save his own hide. M propped himself up on an elbow, his free hand threading through his hair searching for any sign of injury where his head had made contact with the floor. "There is something seriously wrong with you." He muttered, giving his fingers a brief glance to confirm a lack of blood, before redirecting his gaze up to Trevor once more. If he hadn't been so bewildered, he may have been angry.

Instead of responding, T stepped around him and headed to the door, heart pounding its fists against the iron bars of his ribcage. He toed his boots on, not bothering with the laces and swung the door open. "Hey! Where are you going?" Michael asked voice dripping with confusion and what Trevor could only assume was concern. Why he'd be concerned for him, he didn't know and quite frankly couldn't give a shit at the time being.  
"I need a drink." He responded, refusing to look back. But the shuffling sound of Michael getting up made him growl out, "Alone." And with that, he was outside. The door slammed shut and his fingers still wrapped around the handle trying to steady himself as the rest of his body began to shake.

He was going to ruin this, just like he ruined everything else. No one stuck around Trevor Philips for long. His legs, unguided, carried him to the parking lot. He couldn't stay outside their hotel room any longer. If he did, he might bust back in and spill his guts to a man he'd known only for a few weeks. _Fucking weak._ Getting hot and bothered from what could barely be considered a playfight? Like some fucking omega whore who couldn't keep their damn legs shut. _'Omegas are nothing more than pup factories. You don't want to be a slutty little pup factory, do you Trevor?'_ Bile rose in the back of his throat as his father's words echoed through his head. The phantom touch of his father's fingers brushed against his cheek. Three light taps that sent a chill down his spine. He was an omega. He was always going to be one, no matter how long he took the heat suppressors, no matter how many scent-blockers he drenched himself in, no matter how much his father tried to beat it out of him.

But he wasn't about to let this pretty blue-eyed alpha know that. He wasn't going to let _anyone_ turn him into a fuck puppet. Even if the image of Michael hovering over him was seared into his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments! All kudos and comments are super appreciated and they help me stay motivated! Future chapters should be longer, but for now I'm just trying to get this started :3c


	2. fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited the first chapter a little! <3

_Seven years old, tucked up into a corner of the dressing room in a strip club. Trevor sat with his knees pressed against his chest, his left arm wrapped around his shins to keep them in place. On the small table in front of him laid a Lisa Frank coloring book, two crayons, pink and yellow, were wedged into the gutter of the book to keep it open. Two wide eyed big cats sat together on the open page. The saturation of color was nothing like the cover of the book, thanks to the shitty crayons Trevor had, but there was not a single mark outside the lines._

_Shaggy brown hair dipped down into his face, covering his eyes that were beginning to ache from the meticulous coloring and dimmed lights of the dressing room. After starting a small trailer fire, **purely by accident** , he'd been banned from staying home alone. His father had disappeared again without word, as had Ryan, so his mom's only other option was to take him to work with her. His eyes shifted nervously towards the workers ever so often. At his age, he didn't understand why they worked with such little clothing but there was something about all the bright colors and glitter that held him mesmerized. _

_One of the women had caught Trevor staring, and he immediately turned back to his coloring book. Picking up the yellow crayon and going back to work, hoping she would simply ignore him. The click of heels advancing dashed those hopes._

_"Hey honey, my name's Angel." The woman said, squatting down to his level, resting her arm on the table._

_Trevor ignored her, pressing the crayon harder down onto the paper._

_"What's yours?" She prompted after his silence. A head tilt towards the coloring and a soft smile, "that's beautiful, I love the colors."_

_Red flushed across his face and he muttered out a quiet 'thank you'. His eyes crossed up to his bangs, and he let out a puff of air making them flutter to a new position. "I-it's Trevor."_

_"Well, Trevor, it's lovely to meet you. You've got quite the talent." She cooed, with a gentle tone he'd only ever heard from his mother when she was drunk and sentimental. Something that didn't occur often. Angel reached up and pulled a hot pink scrunchy out of her hair, before reaching out and gently gathering the hair out from Trevor's face. Trevor began to recoil but the touch only lasted momentarily as she snapped the scrunchy around once, then twice. It looked silly, his hair pulled up into a little fountain, but at least he could see. "I've gotta get back to work, but you keep it up? Okay?"_

-

"Fucking fuck America." Trevor seethed, kicking open the door to the liquor store. The bell above it tinkled as Trevor stepped out into the snow, vaguely disappointed the wood hadn't splintered when he'd kicked it. He tossed his arm up in the air, middle finger raised as the store clerk yelled expletives at him. Being a few months off from 21, he had needed Michael to supply all their alcohol ever since Trevor had followed him down into the states. Three mini bottles of vodka clinked together in his pocket as he walked in the vague direction of their motel. He was able to snag the bottles when he'd first entered the shop, the clerk too busy flirting with a customer to notice. The amount would be nowhere near enough to get him drunk, but it's not like he had a whole lot of other choices and they would at least get him a little tipsy. Meth, would really help his nerves settle and he had contemplated it but his stash was inside the hotel room and he wasn't carrying enough cash to afford another deal. 

Running out with nothing but a pair of sweats, a raggedy old t-shirt, and some boots was not the wisest decision Trevor had ever made. But it was far from the stupidest, in his defense. The snow was beginning to fall again, harder now after its brief respite. And as much as he didn't want to, he was going to have to go back to their room to avoid freezing to death. He retrieved one of the bottles from his pocket, twisting the top off and downing it in two swallows. The liquid seared a path down his throat, and he could still feel it where it sat heavy in his otherwise empty belly. Both the bottle and cap were thrown haphazardly into the street as he pulled out another one. He knocked it back with ease, a pleasant warmth beginning to spread just beneath his skin. 

Fishing for the third and final bottle, Trevor pulled out instead the scent-blocker that he never had the chance of stuffing back into his bag. He raised the bottle up to examine it closer, clear liquid rolled around in it. There was only about a fourth left. In the past, it would've lasted him a few more weeks before he needed to replace it...but now? With no escape from Michael, it would last maybe a week tops. His fingers curled around the plastic tight enough to make it begin to fold in on itself. _He didn't want to escape Michael_. He'd never felt more alive than when he was by his side, being completely wasted was the only thing that came close and even that feeling paled in comparison. Michael made him feel seen, made him feel important, like he wasn't a complete waste of space. Which was more than Trevor could say for anyone else in his life, and he was addicted to that feeling. Part of him felt guilty for lying to him, regardless of the short amount of time they'd spent together, he got a pit in his stomach knowing that he wasn't being entirely truthful. Part of him wanted to drop the bottle of scent, and smash it to pieces. But the fear Michael would see him as lesser if he knew, forced him to relax his grip and return the bottle back to his pocket. Exchanging it instead for the final vodka bottle.

\- 

_Something was wrong_. Two streets down from where he finished his last bottle, Trevor had finally made it back to the motel. What was once an enjoyable heat, provided from the slight buzz, was an unbearable swelter. It felt like someone had lit a fire beneath him, with every intention of roasting him alive and devouring him. Fumbling for the back of his collar, he clumsily pulled his shirt off, the desperation and speed in which he accomplished this causing the fabric to rip. He didn't give a fuck, not at this moment. Not when he still felt like this. The shirt fell, discarded, on the sidewalk in front of one of hotel doors. 

What the fuck had been in that vodka? Maybe that fucking clerk had poisoned the bottles and left them there for thieves. He'd be able to warn paying customers and exchange the drugged alcohol for the normal kind. 

That was...unsensible but Trevor was having a hard time focusing. He braced himself against the outerwall, vision becoming hazy at the edges and nausea beginning to creep up his throat. Michael was only a few doors down. If he could just make it a few more doors, he could get help. Or at least die in his arms. "You're not fucking dying, T, pull it together." He grumbled beneath his breath, closing his eyes for a moment to try and regain any sense of composure. 

The next time he opened his eyes, he wasn't where he had been standing. His ass was planted in a snow drift that was threatening to swallow him whole. From what he could tell, he was only 15 feet away from his and Michael's room door. There was a clear path of trudged through snow, marking where he'd stumbled out from beneath the motel awning and into the courtyard. If it hadn't of being for the wave of nausea that overtook him once more, Trevor would have been content to lie in the snow half naked. It felt good against his overly hot skin - good enough to stamp out the voice in the back of his head, telling him it was a good way to end up dead too.

"Mikeyyy!" He called out miserably, voice wobbling as he tried to force the sick back down his throat. Maybe he wouldn't hear him. Maybe he wasn't even there any more. Maybe he had gone for his own drinks...or had simply left, sick of Trevor's bullshit already. Panic gripped him by the throat and ripped a desperate wail out of him. With a shaky inhale, he prepared to yell for the blue-eyed bastard once more. Instead, he found himself keeling over to the side, arms wrapped around his stomach as it emptied itself of its contents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Mikey this chapter but not to worry! He's coming~


End file.
